In imitation of Mr. GEORGE HERBERT.

Stultissimum credo ad imitandum non optima quae (que) proponere.
Plin. Secund. lib. 1. Epist. 5.
Not to imitate the best example is the greatest folly.

LONDON, Printed [...] for Phil Stephens, and Chrysto­pher [...], at the golden Lion in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1640.

The Dedication.

LOrd, my first fruits should have been sent to thee,
For thou the tree
That bare them, onely lentest unto me.
But while I had the use, the fruit was mine,
Not so divine
As that I dare presume to call it thine.
Before 'twas ripe, it fell unto the ground:
And since I found
It bruised in the dirt, nor cleane nor sound;
Some I have wip'd and pickt, and bring thee now,
Lord, thou know'st how:
Gladly I would, but dare it not avow.
Such as it is, 'tis here. Pardon the best,
Accept the rest:
Thy pardon and acceptance maketh blest.

A stepping-stone to the threshold of Mr. Herberts Church-porch.

DIc, Cujus templum? Christi. Quis Condidit? e [...]e.
Condidit Herbertus: dic, quibus auxiliis?
Auxiliis multis: quibus, haud mihi dicere fas est,
Tanta est ex dictis lis oriunda meis.
Gratia, si dicam, dedit omnia, protinus obstat
Ingenium, dicens cuncta fuisse sua.
Ars negat, & nihil est non nostrum dicit in illo:
Nec facile est litem composuisse mihi.
Divide: Materiam det gratia, Materiae (que)
Ingenium cultus induat, ars (que) Modos.
Non: ne displiceat pariter res Omnibus ista,
Nec sortita velint jura vocare sua;
Nempe pari sibi jure petunt cultus (que), modos (que),
Materiam (que), ars, & gratia, & ingenium.
Ergo velit siquis dubitantem tollere elenchum,
De templo Herberti talia dictadabit.
In templo Herbertus condendo est Gratia totus,
Ars pariter totus, totus & Ingenium.
Cedite Romanae, Graiiae quo (que) cedite Musae:
Vnum prae cunctis Anglia jactet opus.
[...] [...]
[Page 2] WHat Church is this? Christs Church. Who builds it?
Mr. George Herbert, Who assisted it?
Many assisted: who, I may not say,
So much contention might arise that way.
If I say Grace gave all, Wit straight doth thwart,
And sayes all that is there is mine: but Art
Denies and sayes ther's nothing there but's mine:
Nor can I easily the right define.
Divide: say, Grace the matter gave, and Wit
Did polish it, Art measured and made sit
Each severall piece, and fram'd it all together.
No, by no means: this may not please them neither.
None's well contented with a part alone,
When each doth challenge all to be his owne:
The matter, the expressions, and the measures,
Are equally Arts, Wits, and Graces treasures.
Then he that would impartially discusse
This doubtfull question, must answer thus:
In building of this temple Mr. Herbert
Is equally all Grace, all Wit, all Art.
Roman and Grecian Muses all give way:
One English Poem darkens all your day.

¶ The Church-yard.

THou that intendest to the Church to day,
Come take a turn or two, before thou go'st,
In the Church-yard: the walk is in the way.
Who takes best heede in going, hasteth most:
But he that unprepared rashly ventures,
Hastens perhaps to seale his deaths Indentures.

¶ The Church-stile.

SEest thou that stile? observe then how it rises
Step after step, and equally descends:
Such is the way to winne celestiall prizes;
Humility the course begins and ends.
Would'st thou in grace to high perfection grow?
Shoot thy roots deep, ground thy foundations low.
Humble thy selfe, and God will lift thee up;
Those that exalt themselves, he casteth down:
The hungry he invites with him to sup,
And cloaths the naked with his robe and Crown.
Think not thou hast what thou from him would'st have;
His labour's lost, if thou thy self canst save.
Pride is the prodigalitie of grace,
Which casteth all away by griping all:
Humilitie is thrift, both keeps its place,
And gaines by giving, rises by its fall.
To get by giving, and to loose by keeping,
Is to be sad in mirth, and glad in weeping.

¶ The Church-gate.

NExt to the stlie, see where the gate doth stand,
Which turning upon hooks and hinges may
Easily be shut or open'd with one hand,
Yet constant in its center still doth stay;
And fetching a wide compasse round about,
Keeps the same course and distance, never out.
Such must the course be that to Heaven tends:
He that the gates of righteousnesse would enter,
Must still continue constant to his ends,
And fix himselfe in God as in his center.
Cleave close to him by faith, then move which way
Discretion leads thee, and thou shalt not stray.
We never wander, till we loose our hold
Of him that is our way, our light, our guide:
But when we grow of our own strength too bold,
Vnhookt from him, we quickly turn aside.
He holds us up, whilest in him we are found:
If once we fall from him, we goe to ground.

¶ The Church-wals.

NOw view the Wals, the Church is compast round,
As much for safety as for ornament:
'Tis an inclosure, and no common ground;
'Tis Gods freehold, and but our tenement.
Tenants at will, and yet in taile we be:
Our children have the same right to't as we.
Remember there must be no glatts left ope,
Where God hath fenc'd for feare of false illusions:
God will have all or none; allows no scope
For sinnes incroachments, and mens own intrusions.
Close binding locks his laws together fast:
He that plucks out the first, puls down the last.
Either resolve for all, or else for none;
Obedience universall he doth claime:
Either be wholly his, or all thine owne.
At what thou canst not reach, at least take aime.
He that of purpose looks beside the marke,
Might as well hoodwinkt shoot, or in the darke.

¶ The Church.

LAstly consider where the Church doth stand;
As neer unto the middle as may be:
God in his service chiefely doth command
Above all other things sinceritie.
Lines drawn from side to side within a round,
Not meeting in the Center, short are found.
Religion must not side with any thing
That swerves from God, or else withdraws from him:
He that a welcome sacrifice would bring,
Must fetch it from the bottome, not the brim.
A sacred Temple of the Holy Ghost
Each part of man must be, but his heart most.
Hypocrisie in Church is Alchymie,
That casts a golden tincture upon brasse:
There is no essence in it; 'tis a lye,
Though fairely stampt for truth it often passe:
Onely the Spirits aqua regia doth
Discover it to be but painted froth.

¶ The Church-porch.

NOw ere thou passest further, sit thee down
In the Church-porch, & think what thou hast seen;
Let due consideration either crown,
Orcrush thy former purposes. Between
Rash undertakings and firme resolutions,
Depends the strength or weaknesse of conclusions.
Trace thy steps backward in thy memory,
And first resolve of that thou heardest last:
Sinceritie. It blots the historie
Of all religious actions, and doth blast
The comfort of them, when in them God sees
Nothing but outsides of formalities.
In earnest be religious, trifle not;
And rather for Gods sake then for thine own:
Thou hast rob'd him, unlesse that he have got
By giving, if his glory be not grown
Together with thy good. Who seeketh more
Himself then God, would make his roofe his floore.
Next to sinceritieremember still,
Thou must resolve upon Integritie:
God will have all thou hast; thy minde, thy will,
Thy thoughts, thy words, thy works. A nullitie
It proves, when God, that should have all, doth finde
That there is any one thing left behinde.
And having given him all, thou must receive
All that he gives. Meete his commandement,
Resolvethat thine obedience must notleave
Vntillit reach unto the same extent:
For all his precepts are of equall strength,
And measure thy performance to the length.
Then call to minde that Constancy must knit
Thine undertakings and thine actions fast:
He that sets forth towards Heaven, and doth sit
Down by the way, will be found short at last.
Be constant to the end, and thou shalt have
An heavenly garland, though an earthly grave.
But he that would be constant, must not take
Religion up by fits and starts alone;
But his continuall practise must it make:
His course must be from end to end but one.
Bones often broken and knit up againe,
Loose of their length, though in their strength they gaine.
Lastly, remember that Humilitie
Must solidate and keep all close together.
What pride puffes up with vaine futilitie,
Lyes open and expos'd to all ill weather.
An empty bubble may faire colours carry;
But blow upon it, and it will not tarry.
Prize not thine own too high, nor under-rate
Anothers worth, but deale indifferently;
View the defects of thy spirituall state,
And others graces with impartiall eye:
The more thou deemest of thy selfe, the lesse
Esteeme of thee will all men else expresse.
Contract thy lesson now, and this is just
The summe of all. He that desires to see
The face of God, in his religion must
Sincere, entire, constant, and humble be.
If thus resolved, feare not to proceed;
Else the more haste thou mak'st, the worse thou'lt speed.

¶ Invitation.

TVrn in, my Lord, turn in to mee:
My heart's an homely place;
But thou canst make corruption flee,
And fill it with thy grace.
So furnished, it will be brave;
And a rich dwelling thou shalt have.
It was thy lodging once before;
It builded was by thee:
But I to sinne set ope the doore,
It rendred was by mee;
And so thy building once defac'd,
And in thy roome another plac'd.
But he usurps, the right is thine:
Oh dispossesse him, Lord.
Doe thou but say, this heart is mine,
He's gone at the first word.
Thy word's thy will, thy will's thy power,
Thy time is alwaies; now's mine hower.
Now say to sinne, depart;
And, sonne, give me thine heart.
Thou; that by saying let it be, didst make it;
Canst, if thou wilt, by saying give't me, take it.

¶ Comfort in extremitie.

ALas! my Lord is going;
Oh my woe!
It will be mine undoing,
If he goe.
I'le runne and overtake him:
If he stay,
I'le cry aloud, and make him
Look this way.
Oh stay my Lord, my love; 'tis I.
Comfort me quickly, or I dye.
Cheere up thy drooping spirits;
I am here.
My all-sufficient merits
Shall appeare
Before the throne of glory
In thy stead;
I'le put into thy story,
What I d d.
List up thine eyes, sad soule, and see
Thy Saviour here. Loe, I am he.
Alas! shall I present.
My sinfulnesse
To thee? Thou wilt resent
The loathsomnesse.
Be not afraid, I'le take
Thy sinnes on me;
And all my favour make
To shine on thee.
Lord, what thou'lt have me, thou must make me.
As I have made thee, now I take thee.

¶ Resolution and assurance.

LOrd, thou wilt love me. Wilt thou not?
Beshrew that not;
It was my sinne begot
That question first: Yes Lord, thou wilt;
Thy bloud was spilt
To wash away my guilt.
Lord, I will love thee. Shall I not?
Beshrew that not.
'Twas deaths accursed plot
To put that question. Yes I will,
Lord, love thee still
In spite of all my ill.
Then life and love continue still;
We shall and will
My Lord and I, untill
In his celestiall hill
We love our fill
When he hath purged all my ill.

¶ The Nativitie.

VNfold thy face, unmaske thy ray,
Shine forth, bright Sunne, double the day:
Let no malignant misty fume,
Nor foggy vapour once presume
To interpose thy perfect sight
This day, which makes us love thy light
[Page 11] For ever better that we could
That blessed object once behold,
Which is both the circumference
And center of all excellence:
Or rather neither, but a treasure
Vnconfined without measure:
Whose center and circumference
Including all preheminence,
Excluding nothing but defect,
And infinite in each respect;
Is equally both here and there,
And now and then, and every where;
And alwaies one himselfe the same,
A beeing farre above a name.
Draw neerthen, and freely poure
Forth all thy light into that houre
Which was crowned with his birth,
And made heaven envy earth.
Let not his birth-day clouded be,
By whom thou shinest, and we see.

¶ Vows broken and rewarded.

SAid I not so, that I would sinne no more?
Witnesse my God, I did.
Yet I am runne againe upon the score,
My faults cannot be hid.
What shall I doe? Make vows and break them still?
'Twill be but labour lost:
My good cannot prevaile against mine ill,
The businesse will be crost.
Oh! say not so; thou canst not tell, what strength
Thy God may give thee at the length.
Renew thy vowes, and if thou keep the last,
Thy God will pardon all that's past. (may
Vow whil'st thou canst; whil'st thou canst vow, tho [...] may [...]
Perhaps performe it when thou thinkest least.
Thy God hath not deny'd thee all,
Whilest he permits thee but to call:
Call to thy God for grace to keep
Thy vowes; and if thou break them, weep.
Weep for thy broken vowes, and vow againe:
Vowes made with tears cannot bee still in vaine.
Then once againe
I vow to mend my wayes:
Lord say Amen,
And thine be all the praise.

¶ Confusion.

OH! how my minde
is gravel'd!
not a thought
That I can finde,
but's ravel'd
all to nought.
Short ends of threds,
and narrow shreds
of lists,
Knots snarled ruffes,
loose broken tufts
of twists,
[Page 13] Are my torne meditations ragged clothing;
Which wound and woven shape a suit for nothing.
One while I think, and then I am in paine
To think how to unthink that thought againe.
How can my soule
but famish
with this food?
Pleasures full bowle
tastes rammish,
taints the blood:
Profit picks bones,
and chewes on stones
that choak:
Honour climbes hils;
fats not, but fils
with smoak.
And whilst my thoughts are greedy upon these,
They passe by pearles, and stoop to pick up pease.
Such wash and draffe is fit for none but swine;
And such I am not, Lord, if I am thine.
Cloth me anew, and feed me then afresh:
Else my soule dyes famisht and starv'd with flesh.

¶ A Paradox.

THe worse the better.
Welcome my health: this sicknesse makes me well.
Medicines adiew:
When with diseases I have list to dwell,
I'll wish for you.
Welcome my strength▪ this weakenesse makes me abl [...]
Powers adiew:
When I am weary grown of standing stable,
I'le wish for you.
Welcome my wealth: this losse hath gain'd me more▪
When I again grow greedy to be poore,
I'le wish for you.
Welcome my credit: this disgrace is glory.
Honours adiew:
When for renown and fame I shall be sorry,
I'le wish for you.
Welcome content: this sorrow is my joy.
Pleasures adiew:
When I desire such griefes as may annoy,
I'le wish for you.
Health, strength, and riches, credit and content,
Are spared best sometimes, when they are spent;
Sicknesse and weaknesse, losse, disgrace and sorrow,
Lend most sometimes, when they seeme most to bor­row:
Blest be that hand that helps by hurting, gives
By taking, by forsaking me relieves.
If in my fall my rising be thy will;
Lord, I will say, the wors the better still.
I'le speak the Paradox, maintaine thou it;
And let thy grace supply my want of wit.
Leave me no learning that a man may see,
So I may be a scholar unto thee.

¶ Inmates.

A House I had (a heart I mean) so wide
And full of spatious roomes on every side,
That viewing it I thought I might doe well
(Rather then keep it voide and make no gaine
Of what I could not use) to entertaine
Such guests as came. I did. But what besell
Me quickly in that course, I sigh to tell.
A guest I had (alas! I have her still)
A great big bellyed guest, enough to fill
The vast content of hell, Corruption:
By entertaining her, I lost my right
To more then all the world hath now in sight;
Each day, each houre almost she brought forth one,
Or other base begot, Transgression.
The charge grew great. I, that had lost before,
All that I had, was forced now to score,
For all the charges of their maintenance,
In doomes-day book: who ever knew't would say,
The least summe there was more then I could pay,
When first 'twas due; beside continuance,
Which could not choose but much the debt en­hance.
To ease me, first I wisht her to remove;
But she would not. I sued her then above,
And begg'd the Court of heaven, but in vaine,
To cast her out. No, I could not evade
The bargaine, which she pleaded I had made;
That whilest both lived, I should entertaine
At mine own charge both her and all her traine.
No helpe then, but or I must die or she;
And yet my death of no availe would be:
For one death I had died already then,
When first she liv'd in me; and now to die
Another death againe, were but to tye
And twist them both into a third; which, when
It once hath seixed on, never looseth men.
Her death might be my life; but her to kill
I of my selfe had neither power, nor will.
So desperate was my case. Whil'st I delayd,
My guest still teem'd, my debts still greater grew;
The lesse I had to pay, the more was due:
The more I knew, the more I was affraid;
The more I mus'd, the more I was dismaid.
At last I learnt, there was no way but one,
A friend must doe it for me. He alone,
That is the Lord of life, by dying can
Save men from death, and kill Corruption:
And many yeers agoe the deed was done;
His heart was piere'd, out of his side there ran
Sinnes corrasives, restoratives for man.
This precious balme I begg'd, for pities sake,
At Mercies gate: where Faith alone may take,
What Grace and Truth doe offer liberally.
Bountie said, Come. I heard it, and beleeved
None ever there complain'd but was relieved.
Hope waiting upon Faith, said instantly,
That henceforth I should live, Corruption dye.
I'd so she dy'd, I live. But yet, alas!
[...]e are not parted. She is where she was;
Cleaves fast unto me, still looks through mine eies
[...]peaks in my tongue, and muses in my minde,
[...]orks with my hands: her body's left behinde,
Although her soule be gone. My miseries
All flow from hence; from hence my woes arise.
Ioath my selfe, because I leave her not;
Yet cannot leave her. No, she is my lot
Now being dead, that living was my choice;
And still though dead, she both conceives and beares
Many faults daily, and as many feares:
All which for vengeance call with a loud voice,
And drown my comforts with their deadly noise.
Dead bodies kept unburied quickly stink,
And putrifie: how can I then but think
Corruption noysome, even mortify'd?
Though such she were before, yet such to me
She seemed not: Kind fooles can never see,
Or will not credit, untill they have try'd,
That friendly lookes oft false intents doe hide.
But mortified Corruption lyes unmaskt,
Blabs her own secret filthynesse unaskt,
To all that understand her. That doe none,
In whom she lives embraced with delight:
She first of all deprives them of their sight;
Then dote they on her as upon their owne,
And she to them seems beautifull alone.
But woe is me! one part of me is dead,
The other lives. Yet that which lives, is led,
Or rather carry'd captive unto sinne,
By the dead part. I am a living grave,
And a dead body I within me have.
The worse part of the better oft doth win;
And when I should have ended, I begin.
The sent would choak me, were it not that grace
Sometimes vouch safeth to perfume the place
With odors of the spirit, which doe ease me,
And counterpoise Corruption. Blessed spirit,
Although eternall torments be my merit,
And of my self Transgressions onely please me,
Adde grace enough being reviv'd to raise me.
Challenge thine own: Let not intruders hold
Against thy right, what to my wrong I sold.
Having no state my selfe but tenancy,
And tenancy at will, what could I grant
That is not voided, if thou say avaunt?
O speak the word, and make these inmates flee;
Or which is one, take me to dwell with thee.

¶ The Curbe.

PEace rebell Thought: do'st thou not know thy King,
My God is here?
Cannot his presence, if no other thing,
Make thee forbeare?
Or were he absent, all the standers by
Are but his spyes:
And well he knows, if thou should'st it deny,
Thy words were lyes.
If others will not, yet I must, and will
My selfe complaine.
My God, even now a base rebellious thought
Began to move,
And subt'ly twining with me would have wrought
Me from thy love:
Faine he would have me to believe, that sinne
And thou might both
Take up my heart together for your Inne,
And neither loth
The others company; a while sit still,
And part againe.
Tell me, my God, how this may be redrest:
The fault is great,
And I the guilty party have confest,
I must be beat:
And I refuse not punishment for this,
Though to my paine,
So I may learne to doe no more amisse,
Nor sinne againe.
Correct me, if thou wilt; but teach me then,
What I shall doe.
Lord of my life, me thinks I heare thee say,
That labour's eas'd:
The fault that is confest, is done away;
And thou art pleas'd.
How can I sinne againe, and wrong thee then
That do'st relent,
And cease thine anger straight, as soon as men
Doe but repent?
No rebell Thought: for if thou move againe,
I'le tell thee too.

¶ The Losse.

THe match is made between my love and me:
And therefore glad and merry now I'le be.
Come Glorie, crowne my head, and pleasures drowne my bed of thornes in downe.
Sorrow be gone, delight and joy alone befit my honey moone.
Be packing now you comb'rous Cares and Feares:
Mirth will allow no roome to sighs and teares.
Whilst thus I lay as ravisht with delight,
I heard one say, so fooles their friends requite.
[Page 21] I knew the voyce, my Lords; and at the noise his words did make, arose.
I lookt and spied each where, and lowdly cry'd, my deare; but none reply'd.
Then to my griefe I found my love was gone,
Without reliefe, leaving me all alone.

¶ The Search.

WHither, oh! whither is my Lord departed?
What can my Love, that is so tender hearted,
Forsake the soule which once he thorow darted,
As though it never smarted?
No sure, my Love is here, if I could finde him:
He that fils all can leave no place behinde him.
But oh! my sences are too weak to winde him,
Or else I doe not minde him.
Oh! no, I mind him not so as I ought;
Nor seek him so as I by him was sought,
When I had lost my selfe; he dearely bought
Me that was sould for nought.
But I have wounded him, that made me sound;
Lost him againe, by whom I first was found;
Him, that exalted me, have cast to th' ground:
My sinnes his bloud have drown'd.
Tell me, oh! tell me (thou alone canst tell)
Lord of my life, where thou art gone to dwell:
For in thy absence heaven it selfe[?] is hell;
Without thee none is well.
Or if thou beest not gone, but onely hidest
Thy presence in the place where thou abidest;
Teach me the sacred art, which thou providest
For all them whom thou guidest,
To seek and finde thee by: Else here I'le lye,
Vntill thou finde me. If thou let me dye
That onely unto thee for life doe cry,
Thou dyest as well as I.
For if thou live in me, and I in thee,
Then either both alive or dead mu [...]t be:
At least, I'le lay my death on thee, and see
If thou wilt not agree.
For though thou be the judge thy selfe, I have
Thy promise for it which thou canst not wave,
That who salvation at thy hands doe crave,
Thou wilt not faile to save.
Oh! seek and finde me then, or else deny
Thy truth, thy selfe. Oh! thou that canst not lye
Shew thy selfe constant to thy word, draw nigh;
Finde me. Loe, here Ilye.

¶ The Returne.

LOe, now my love appeares,
My teares
Have clear'd mine eyes. I see
'Tis he.
Thanks blessed Lord, thine absence was my hell;
And now thou art returned, I am well.
By this I see I must
Not trust
My joyes unto my selfe:
This shelfe
Of too secure and presumptuous pleasure
Had almost sunke my ship, and drown'd my treasure.
Who would have thought a joy
So coy,
To be offended so
And go
So suddenly away? as though enjoying
Full pleasure and contentment were annoying.
Hereafter I had need
Take heed:
Joyes, amongst other things,
Have wings,
And watch their opportunities of flight;
Converting in a moment day to night.
But is't enough for me,
To be
Instructed to be wise?
I'le rise,
And reade a lecture unto them that are
Willing to learn, how comfort dwels with care.
He that his joyes would keept,
Must weepe,
And in the brine of teares
And feares
Must pickle them. That powder will preserve:
Faith with repentance is the soules conserve.
Learne to make much of care:
A rare
And precious balsome 'tis
For blisse;
Which oft resides where mirth with sorrow meets.
Heavenly joyes on earth are bitter-sweets.

¶ The Circumcision.

SOorrow betide my sinnes! Must smart so soon
Seaze on my Saviours tender flesh, scarce grown
Vnto an eight dayes age?
Can nothing else asswage
The wrath of heaven but his infant[?] blood?
Innocent infant, infinitely good!
Is this thy welcome to the world, great God:
No sooner born but subject to the rod,
Of sinne incensed wrath?
Alas! what pleasure hath
Thy Fathers justice to begin thy passion
Almost together with thine incarnation?
Is it to antidate thy death? Indite
Thy condemnation himselfe? and write
The coppie with thy bloud,
Since nothing is so good?
Cr [...]s't by this experiment to try,
Whether thou beest borne mortall and canst dye?
If man must needs draw blood of God, yet why
Stayes he not till thy time be come to die?
[Page] Didst thou thus early bleed
For us, to shew what need
We have to hasten unto thee as fast,
And learne that all the time is lost that's past?
'Tis true we should doe so. Yet in this blood
Ther's something else that must be understood:
It seales thy covenant;
That so we may not want
Witnesse enough against thee, that thou art
Made subject to the law to act our part.
The Sacrament of thy regeneration
It cannot be. It gives no intimation
Of what thou wert, but we.
Native[?] impuritie,
Originall corruption, was not thine;
But onely as thy righteousnesse is mine.
In holy Baptisme this is brought to mee,
As that in Circumcision was to thee:
And so thy losse and paine
Did prove my joy and goine.
Thy Circumcision writ thy death in blood:
Baptisme in water seales my livelyhood.
Oh blessed change! yet rightly understood
That blood was water, and this water's blood.
What shall I give againe
To recompence thy paine?
Lord, take revenge upon me for this smart:
To quit thy fore-skin, circumcise my heart.

¶ Inundations.

WE talke of Noahs flood as of a wonder;
And so we may:
The Scrptures say,
The waters did prevaile. the hils were under,
And nothing could be seen but sea.
And yet there are two other sloods surpasse
That flood as farre,
As heaven one starre:
Which many men regard as little as
The ordinariest things that are.
The one is sinne, the other is salvation:
And we must need
Confesse indeed
That either of them is an inundation,
That doth the deluge farre exceed.
In Noahs food he and his houshold liv'd;
And there abode
A whole Ark-load
Of other creatures, that were then repriev'd,
All safely on the waters rode.
But when sinne came, it overflowed all,
And left none free:
Nay, even he
That knew no sinne, could not release my thrall;
But that he was made sinne for me.
And when salvation came, my Saviours blood
Drown'd sinne againe
With all its traine
Of evils; overflowing them with good,
With good that ever shall remaine.
Oh! let there be one other inundation:
Let grace overflow
In my soule so,
That thankfulnesse may levell with salvation,
And sorrow sinne may overgrow.
Then will I praise my Lord and Saviour so,
That Angels shall
Admire mans fall;
When they shall see Gods greatest glory grow,
Where Satan thought to root out all.

¶ Sinne.

SInne, I would faine define thee, but thou art
An uncouth thing,
All that I bring
To shew thee fully, shews thee but in part.
I call thee the transgression of the law.
And yet I read,
That sinne is dead
Without the law; and thence it strength doth draw.
I say thou art the sting of death. 'Tis true.
And yet I finde
Death comes behinde:
The work is done before the pay be due.
I say thou art the devils work. Yet hee
Should much rather
Call thee father:
For he had been no devill but for thee.
What shall I call thee then? If death and devill,
Right understood,
Be names too good;
I'le say thou art the quintessence of evill.

¶ Travels at home.

OFt have I wisht a traveller to be;
Mine eyes did even itch the sights to see,
That I had heard and read of. Oft I have
Been greedy of occasion, as the grave
That never sayes enough; yet still was crost
When oportunities had promis'd most.
At last I said: What meanst thou wandring else
To straggle thus? Goe travell first thy selfe:
Thy little world can shew thee wonders great;
The greater may have more, but not more neat
And curious pieces. Search, and thou shalt finde
Enough to talk of. If thou wilt, thy minde
Europe supplies, and Asia thy will,
And Africk[?] thine affections. And if still
Thou list to travell further, put thy sences
For both the Indies. Make no more pretences
Of new discoveries, whilst yet thine own
And neerest little world is still unknown.
Away then with thy quadrants, compasses,
Globes, tables, cards, and mappes, and minute glasses:
Lay by thy journals and thy diaries,
Close up thine annalls and thy histories:
[Page] Studie thy selfe, and reade what thou hast writ
In thine own book, thy conscience: Is it fit
To labour after other knowledge so,
And thine own neerest, dearest selfe not know?
Travels abroad both deare and dangerous are,
Whil'st oft the soule payes for the bodies fare▪
Travels at home are cheape and safe. Salvation
Comes mounted on the wings of meditation.
He that doth live at home, and learns to know
God and himselfe, needeth no further goe.

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